Fashion Zombies
by Smileyfax
Summary: Dr. Shar unwittingly unleashes a zombie plague upon Lawndale, forcing the Fashion Club and a few other survivors to fight for their lives. A remake of an older story with the same name.


Daria was typing up a new short story when a knock on her door interrupted her chain of thoughts. "Enter of your own free will," she intoned.

Quinn entered the room, and Daria could already tell from her red, puffy eyes that something had her deeply upset. Internally, she groaned. "What's wrong now, Quinn?" It was only the beginning of the week when Quinn had been upset about losing popularity over the plastic surgery fad that had swept Lawndale High.

"Brooke's gotten really sick," Quinn said.

"Quinn, even if you couldn't really see her brain after what happened, it's not surprising to hear that she's suffering from what happened to her -"

"No! I mean, she's not sick from her face imploding or whatever. Her mom emailed everybody on her contact list and said that she was in the IQ with something really bad."

"The 'IQ'?"

"Oh, you know, I-See-You...IQ." Daria rolled her eyes at the malapropism. "Brooke's mom said the doctors don't know if she'll make it." This last statement prompted a fresh outburst of tears.

Daria knew it was against her better judgement, but stood and patted Quinn on the shoulder, awkwardly. "Um, I'm sorry," she offered. Quinn threw herself onto her sister, latching on with a death-grip hug, now sobbing fully onto Daria's shoulder, surely getting her favorite jacket soaked in tears and snot...Daria set her jaw and endured it.

After Quinn had recovered, she and Daria sat on her bed together. "Daria, why do you think Brooke got sick?"

Daria had to suppress the urge to snark. "Quinn, Brooke had a lot of unnecessary surgery performed on her. Judging from what I know of Dr. Shar during our mercifully-brief acquaintance, I'd say it's even odds that she didn't strictly follow surgical procedure...maybe she didn't sterilize one of her tools properly or something."

Quinn appeared to think this over for a moment. "Daria, we have to go find out what Dr. Shar did to Brooke."

"What? Why?"

"Because she has to pay for what she did!" Quinn stood and marched over to the bedroom door.

"Quinn, wait!" Daria called out. Her sister turned, and Daria recoiled a little at the look of cold determination on Quinn's face. She had only seen it a few times before, when Helen was in Lawyer Mode. "Quinn...I thought you didn't even like Brooke."

Quinn nodded. "Daria...that could have been ME in the IQ tonight. I could have gotten all that surgery, and be laying on death's store." Without another word, she walked out of the room.

Daria chewed that information over in her head. Quinn dead...Of course it couldn't have possibly happened, as Daria would have eventually talked her down even without the news of the nasal relapse, but still...She got up and followed her sister.

XXXX

The two siblings arrived again at the RxPlex via bus, and walked through the complex to the Swan Shoppe, where they found the 'Closed' sign displayed.

"Well, I guess it's closed," Daria said.

Quinn tried the knob and opened the door, as it was unlocked to begin with. She smiled at Daria before slipping inside.

"Quinn - Damnit, Quinn! This is breaking and entering!"

Quinn stuck her head back out the doorway. "I didn't break anything!"

Daria rolled her eyes and followed into the office - their mother would crucify her either way if this went south, so she may as well dig her grave as deeply as possible.

The first thing she noticed was that the overhead lighting was off, and the waiting room was unoccupied. A grinding noise could be heard from Dr. Shar's office.

Quinn walked over to the light switch and flipped it on before Daria could protest. The light immediately revealed that the waiting room had been the scene of what appeared to be a scuffle. One of the chairs was tipped to the side; a magazine rack had been knocked over, spilling its contents; and, most disturbingly, a dark blotch stained the carpet.

"What is that?" Quinn bent over to touch it, but Daria yanked her hand away from it.

"Quinn, something tells me that that's blood."

Quinn immediately stood up and backpedaled. "Ewwwwww!" she protested.

"What? Who's out there?" the frenzied voice came from the inner office. Dr. Shar emerged from the door a moment later, wielding a pistol. "Are you feds? Are you fucking feds? Talk, damnit!"

"We aren't cops," Daria assured her as calmly as she could, as Quinn shrieked in fear and leapt behind Daria.

"Then what the hell are you doing - oh, I recognize you." She shoved her gun into a holster under her doctor coat. "Sorry, sweetie, but if you're here about those breast implants, I've just retired."

"Retired?"

A bitter smile cracked onto Dr. Shar's face. "Yes, retired. All because of my damn suppliers..." She realized she wasn't just talking to herself, and made a shooing motion with one hand. "Look, just beat it, girls. Don't be here next time I come out." She patted the coat, beneath which lay her pistol, before turning around and retreating back into her office. Just before the door swung shut, Daria glimpsed a paper shredder inside, the source of the grinding noise they had heard earlier.

"Daria, what -"

"We're leaving. Now." She grabbed Quinn's forearm with a vice-like grip and marched the two of them out of there as fast as she could walk, not caring if Quinn kept half-stumbling behind her from not being able to keep up. If the worst that happened to Quinn that day was a sprained ankle, Daria could live with that.

Outside the RxPlex, as they waited for the next bus, Daria moved over to a pay phone, inserted a few quarters, connected to the nearest FBI office, and provided them with an anonymous tip that Dr. Shar was shredding documents, had held a gun on two minors, and was involved in the negligent surgery of a patient. The bus arrived after Daria hung up, and she ushered Quinn on board, not being eager to be there when the real cops arrived.

As they rode home and watched the sun set, Daria and Quinn held hands willingly for the first time either one of them could recall. By the time they had arrived home and the sun had set, a new email waited on Quinn's computer.

Brooke had died.

XXXXXXXXXX

This is my second attempt at a fic involving the Fashion Club fighting zombies. (As if you couldn't tell by all the subtle clues interspersed throughout this chapter, oh, and the TITLE). I didn't really like the first one, since I decided after writing one chapter that it'd be better off set during the show's run, so as to make it fit better with some ideas I have. (It was originally set during Quinn's senior year, with Daria off in Raft-ville).

Whatever happened to the zombie mania that swept the fandom a few years back? You couldn't read a single Daria story without tripping over a few zombies, it seemed. 


End file.
